Highland Velvet

by Jude Deveraux

Mary and Bronwyn sat on the crest of the hill at a place where Bronwyn could see across the countryside. It had taken all of Mary’s strength to follow.

  “What was that?” Bronwyn asked suddenly.

  Mary listened for a moment, but all she heard was the soft sigh of the wind and the guards’ voices.

  “There it is again!” Bronwyn looked over her shoulder, and Rab came to nudge her. “Yes, boy,” she whispered. She stood quickly. “Someone’s hurt,” she said to Mary as she began to run to the top of the hill, Rab beside her.

  The guards looked up, but they gave the women privacy, thinking a call of nature took them over the crest of the hill.

  Mary strained her eyes but saw nothing. Below them lay a pond, the edges half frozen, great thin sheets of ice floating in the water.

  Bronwyn strained her eyes until suddenly Rab gave a sharp bark. “There!” Bronwyn yelled as she began to run.

  Mary didn’t see a thing but lifted her heavy skirts and followed. It was only when she was halfway to the pond that she saw the child’s head and shoulders. The child was trapped in the icy water.

  Mary felt a shiver run along her spine, and she began to run faster and faster. She didn’t notice when she passed Bronwyn. She ran straight into the water and grabbed the child.

  The little boy looked up at her with great, blank eyes. Only minutes were left if they were to keep the child from freezing.

  “He’s stuck!” Mary called to Bronwyn. “His foot seems to be caught on something. Can you throw me your knife?”

  Bronwyn’s mind worked quickly. She knew the child could stand little more of the icy water so time was of the essence. If she tossed Mary the knife and Mary didn’t catch it, they’d probably lose the child. There was only one way to make sure Mary got the knife.

  “Rab!” Bronwyn said, and the dog recognized the sound of urgency in her voice. “Go to the men and get help. Bring someone here. We need help, Rab.”

  The dog shot away like an arrow from a bow. But he did not head toward the guards who waited just over the hill.

  “Damn!” Bronwyn cursed, but it was already too late to call the dog back to her.

  She took her knife from her side and plunged into the cold water. She moved as quickly as she could, hindered by the growth under the water. Mary was blue with cold, but she held on to the boy, whose face was turning gray.

  Bronwyn knelt, the water smacking against her chest like a brick wall. She felt for the child’s legs, felt the undergrowth that held him. Her teeth were beginning to chatter as she sawed away at the tough growth.

  “He’s free!” she whispered after a moment. She saw that Mary’s face was beginning to lose its blueness, turning to the more dangerous gray. Bronwyn knelt and lifted the child. “Can you follow?” she called over her shoulder to Mary.

  Mary didn’t have the excess strength to reply. She concentrated all her energies on moving her legs and following Bronwyn’s quickly moving form.

  Bronwyn barely reached the edge of the pond before the child was taken from her arms. She looked into Raine’s serious face.

  “How…?” Bronwyn began.

  “Miles and I were riding to meet you when your dog came to us. Rab was bounding like a demon.” As Raine spoke he was constantly moving. He put the child into one of his men’s arms, then wrapped his cloak around Bronwyn’s cold, wet shoulders.

  “Mary?” Bronwyn asked as she began to shiver.

  “Miles has her,” Raine said as he tossed his sister-in-law into his saddle and mounted behind her.

  They went quickly back to the Montgomery castle. Raine held his horse under control with one hand while his other hand rubbed Bronwyn’s shoulders and arms. She realized she was freezing, and she tried to make herself into a ball and snuggle against Raine’s solid warmth.

  Once inside the gates Raine carried Bronwyn upstairs to her bedchamber. He stood her in the middle of the floor while he opened a chest and pulled a heavy robe of golden wool from it. “Here, put this on,” he commanded as he turned his back on her and began to stoke the fire.

  Bronwyn’s fingers trembled as she tried to unfasten her shirt. The wet, clammy fabric clung to her. She peeled it away from her skin, then took the robe Raine had tossed on the bed beside her. The wool was heavy and thick, but she couldn’t yet feel any of its warmth.

  Raine turned back to her, took one look at her colorless face, and swept her into his arms. He sat down in a large chair before the fireplace with her in his lap. He tucked the big robe, one of Stephen’s, around her, held her closely as she drew her legs in to her chest and tucked her head into Raine’s broad chest.

  It took several minutes before she was able to stop shivering. “Mary?” she whispered after a moment.

  “Miles is taking care of her, and by now Judith has her in a hot tub of water.”

  “And the child?”

  Raine looked down at her, his eyes turning dark blue. “Did you know it was only a serf’s child?” he asked quietly.

  She pulled away from him. “What does it matter? The child needed help.”

  Raine smiled at her and pulled her back to his chest. “I didn’t think it would matter to you. I know it wouldn’t to Mary. You’ll have trouble with Gavin, though. He wouldn’t risk a hair on one of his family’s heads for all the serfs in the world.”

  “I’ve dealt with Stephen for months, so I guess I can deal with Gavin.” She gave a great sigh of resignation.

  Raine gave a laugh that started in his flat belly. She felt it before she heard it. “Well said! I see you understand my elder brothers.”

  She smiled against his chest. “Raine, why haven’t you ever married?”

  “The universal question from women,” he chuckled. “Did you consider that no one would have me?”

  The question was so absurd she didn’t even reply.

  “Actually I’ve turned down six women in eight months.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Were they too ugly, too thin, too fat? Or didn’t you meet them?”

  “I met them,” he said quietly. “I’m not like my brothers, who are willing to meet their brides on their wedding days. The fathers made the offers, and I spent three days with each woman.”

  “Yet you turned them all down.”

  “Aye, that I did.”

  She sighed. “What do you expect of a woman? Surely one of them must have been pretty enough.”

  “Pretty!” Raine snorted. “Three of them were beautiful! But I want more than a pretty woman. I want a woman who has a thought in her head besides the latest embroidery pattern.” His eyes twinkled merrily. “I want a woman who’ll walk into an icy pond and risk her life to save a serf child.”

  “But surely, had any woman seen the child—”

  Raine looked away from her to the fire. “You and Mary are special, as is Judith. Did you know Judith once led Gavin’s men when Gavin was held captive by some madman? She risked her own life to save his.” He smiled down at her. “I’m waiting until I get someone like you or Judith.”

  Bronwyn considered this for a moment. “No, I can’t see that we’re what you want. Gavin is attached to the land, and so is Judith. They fit together. And Scotland is for me. Stephen is free to live there with me. But you…I feel you never stay in one place too long. You need someone as free as you are, someone who isn’t tied to a piece of stone and earth somewhere.”

  Raine looked at her with his mouth agape, then closed it and smiled. “I won’t ask how you know all that. I’m sure the answer would be that you’re a witch. Now, since you seem to know so much about me, I’d like to ask you some personal questions.”

  He paused and looked into her eyes. “What is wrong between you and Stephen?” he asked quietly. “Why are you angry at him all the time?”

  Bronwyn was slow to speak. She knew of the closeness between the brothers, and she wasn’t sure how Raine would take to any criticism of his elder brother. But how could she lie?

  She took a deep breath and spoke the truth. �
�Stephen thinks I have no honor or pride. He believes anyone before he believes me. In Scotland he thought everything I did was wrong, and in truth some of it was, but he had no right to treat me as if everything I did was wrong.”

  Raine nodded in understanding. It had taken Gavin a while to realize Judith was more than just a pretty body.

  But before he could say a word, the door burst open and a tired, dirty Stephen stormed into the room.

  “Miles said Bronwyn jumped into an icy lake!” he thundered. “Where is she?” Even as he said the words, he saw her in Raine’s lap. He took two long steps across the room and snatched her from him.

  “Damn you!” he bellowed. “I can’t leave you for more than an hour without your getting into trouble.”

  “Release me!” she said coldly. He’d been away for days, the first time they’d ever been separated, and now all he did was curse her.

  Stephen must have felt some of her thoughts. He set her on the floor before him. “Bronwyn,” he said quietly, touching her cheek.

  She gathered the bottom of the wool robe off the floor and walked toward the door. She was one of the few women in the world who could manage to look dignified while barefoot and wearing a robe hanging several inches past her hands.

  She put her hand on the door latch and, without turning, said, “Someday you’ll learn that I am neither a child nor an idiot.” She opened the door and left the room.

  Stephen took a step toward the closed door, but Raine’s voice stopped him.

  “Sit down and let her alone,” Raine said with resignation.

  Stephen looked toward the door for a moment longer, then turned and took a chair across from Raine’s. He ran his hand wearily through his dirty hair. “Is she unhurt? Will she be all right?”

  “Of course,” Raine answered confidently. “She’s strong and healthy, and from what you say of the Scots she’s lived out-of-doors most of her life.”

  Stephen stared at the fire. “I know,” he said heavily.

  “What’s eating you?” Raine demanded. “You’re not the Stephen I know.”

  “Bronwyn,” he whispered. “She’s going to be the death of me. In Scotland one night she decided to lead her men on a raid against her clan’s enemy. In order to assure herself that I’d be out of the way, she drugged me.”

  “She did what?” Raine exploded, realizing the full danger of Bronwyn’s act.

  Stephen grimaced. “One of her men found what she’d done and helped wake me. When I found her, she was down the side of a cliff, dangling by a rope about her waist.”

  “Good God!” Raine gasped.

  “I didn’t know whether to beat her or lock her away to protect her against herself.”

  “And which did you do?”

  Stephen leaned back in the chair. His voice was full of disgust. “What I always end up doing: I made love to her.”

  Raine chuckled deeply. “It seems to me your problem would be if she were selfish and cared only about herself.”

  Stephen stood and walked to the fireplace. “She cares too little for herself. Sometimes she makes me ashamed of myself. When it comes to that clan of hers, she does whatever she thinks is best without regard to her own safety.”

  “And you worry about her?” Raine asked.

  “Damned right! Why can’t she stay at home and have babies and care for them—and me—as a wife should? Why does she have to lead cattle raids, carve her initials on a man’s chest, roll in her plaid and sleep on the ground in perfect comfort? Why can’t she be…be…”

  “A simpering little mealy-mouthed wench who’d look at you with adoring eyes and embroider all your shirt collars?” Raine suggested.

  Stephen sat down heavily. “I don’t want that, but there has to be some compromise.”

  “Do you really want to change her?” Raine asked. “What is it about her that made you love her in the first place? And don’t tell me it was her beauty. You’ve been to bed with several beautiful women, but you’ve not fallen in love with them.”

  “Is it so obvious?”

  “To me and probably to Gavin and Miles, but I don’t think it is to Bronwyn. She doesn’t believe you care for her at all.”

  Stephen sighed. “I’ve never met anyone like her, male or female. She’s so strong, so noble, almost like a man. You should see the way her clan treats her. The Scots aren’t like us. The serf children run to her and hug her, and she kisses all the babies. She knows the name of every person on her land, and they all call her by her first name. She goes without food and clothes so her clan can have more. One night, about a month after we were married, I noticed her wrapping bread and cheese in her plaid. She ignored me but kept looking toward Tam. He’s a man who often acts as her father. I realized she was doing something she didn’t want Tam to see, so after supper I followed her off the peninsula. She was taking the food to one of her crofter’s children, a sulking little boy who’d run away from home.”

  “And what did you say to her?” Raine asked.

  Stephen shook his head in memory. “Me, the great wise one, I told her she had to send the boy back to his parents instead of encouraging him to run away from home.”

  “And what did Brownyn say?”

  “She said the boy was as important to her as the parents, and she had no right to betray him just because he was a boy. She said he’d go home in a few days and accept his punishment as he should.”

  Raine gave a low whistle of admiration. “Sounds like you could learn something from her.”

  “You think I haven’t? She’s changed my whole life. When I went to Scotland, I was an Englishman, and now look at me. I can’t abide these English clothes. I feel like Samson with my hair cut short. I find myself looking at the English countryside and thinking it’s dry and hot compared to home. Home! I swear I’m homesick for a place that I never saw before a few months ago.”

  “Tell me,” Raine said, “have you told Bronwyn how you feel? Have you told her you love her and are only concerned with her safety?”

  “I’ve tried to. Once I tried to tell her that I loved her, and she said it didn’t matter, that honor and respect were more important to her.”

  “But from what you say, you do have those feelings for her.”

  Stephen started to grin. “It’s not easy telling Bronwyn anything. We had…I guess you could call it an argument before we arrived here.” He told Raine briefly about the trick of Hugh Lasco’s.

  “Hugh!” Raine snorted. “I never much liked the man with his slow ways.”

  “Bronwyn didn’t seem to mind them,” Stephen said in disgust.

  Raine laughed. “Don’t tell me you are touched by Gavin’s jealousy!”

  Stephen whirled on his brother. “Just wait until you are obsessed by some woman! I’ll wager you aren’t so cool-headed then.”

  Raine put up his hand. “I hope I look on love as a joy and not as the disease you seem to be eaten with.”

  Stephen turned away and stared into the fire. Sometimes his love for Bronwyn did seem like a disease. He felt she’d taken his soul along with his heart.

  When Bronwyn left her own bedchamber, she went to Mary’s. Mary was in bed, Judith hovering over her, placing hot bricks throughout the bed.

  “Judith,” Mary said quietly. “I am not about to die of a little cold water.” She looked across the room and smiled at Bronwyn. “Come and help me persuade Judith that our escapade was not of the killing sort.”

  Bronwyn smiled at the women and studied Mary Her pale skin was even paler, and there were bright pink patches on her cheeks. “It was nothing,” Bronwyn said. “But I envy you with the control of spirit so you can rest.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’m so excited about the new dress Judith promised me that I cannot rest. Perhaps we could see it now,” she said suggestively to Judith.

  Judith understood immediately, and the two women quietly left the room. “Do you think she will be all right?” Judith asked as soon as they were in the hall.

  “Yes, she needs
rest, I can tell. I don’t believe our Mary is completely in this world. I think Heaven owns part of her. Perhaps that’s why she’s so weak.”

  “Yes,” Judith agreed. “Now, about that gown—”

  Bronwyn waved her hand. “It was only an excuse to give Mary a chance to rest.”

  Judith laughed. “As becoming as Stephen’s robe is, it doesn’t substitute for the gown you need. Now come with me, and I want no excuses.”

  An hour later Bronwyn stood arrayed in a gown of lush, deep green velvet. The color was of a forest just at sunset. The undersleeves were of brilliant green silk, and the loose, hanging oversleeves were banded with a wide border of red fox. Heavy gold cords were attached to the shoulders and hung below the deep, square neckline.

  “It’s beautiful, Judith,” Bronwyn whispered. “I don’t know how to thank you. All of you have been so generous.”

  Judith kissed her friend’s cheek. “I must go now and do the day’s work. Perhaps Stephen would like to see the new gown,” she suggested.

  Bronwyn turned away. Stephen would only complain that the neck was too low or some other such accusation.

  After Judith was gone, Bronwyn went to the cold courtyard below. She threw a fox-lined mantle about her shoulders and walked toward the stables.

  “Bronwyn,” an unfamiliar voice said once she was inside the dark place.

  She looked into the shadows and saw the man who’d fought Stephen’s George that morning. “Yes,” she said curtly. “What is it?”

  The man’s eyes sparkled even in the dimness. “The English gown becomes you.” Before she could speak, his manner changed to a more formal one. “I’ve heard your Scotsmen are quite good with a bow. Perhaps you”—this seemed to amuse him—“could teach me a better way to handle a bow.”

  She ignored the undercurrent of laughter in the man’s voice. Perhaps his laughter was meant as a defense in case she refused his request. But Bronwyn had spent many hours learning how to handle a bow, and she was used to training men. It was good that this Englishman wanted to learn the Scots’ ways. “I would be happy to give you instruction,” she said, then walked past the man—and straight into Stephen’s hard chest. The man quickly left the stables.